Turbulence
by soaper410
Summary: My answer to the July Fanfiction challenge. Watty changes the course of Nashville history.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my prompt answer to the July Fanfic Challenge. The Challenge is: your story should incorporate a message (letter, email, etc) and have at least one character (other than or along with Rayna and Deacon) who plays a pivotal role. The prompt encouraged creativity & trying something new...so here will go. This will (hopefully) be a multi-chapter story. **

**A HUGE thank you to Shiny Jewel for being my Beta on this! You have no idea how much I appreciate it.  
**

**Turbulence**

"Here is your drink Mr. White," says the first-class stewardess as she hands me a glass of red wine.

I do not typically drink, but I need the liquid courage today. For starters, I loathe flying. Simply loathe it. I only fly when I absolutely have to, like for an overseas event or when I need to get from Point A to Point B quickly. Today's journey is necessary because of the latter.

I look in my carry-on bag and see the envelope sticking out of the side pocket. I should have made the flight three days ago when I received the invitation in the mail. As soon as I saw the invitation, I thought it was some very odd joke. The invitation read that 'Lamar Raymond Wyatt' announced the engagement and approaching marriage of his daughter "Rayna Constance Wyatt" to "Theodore James Conrad." Even more preposterous, the wedding date was set for this coming Friday. Who on earth was going to believe Rayna would get married to a stranger, at Lamar's home, on Friday? But then I looked at the invitation closer. The cream colored paper was high quality and the lettering on the invitation was raised from the paper. This was a real invitation.

I pull it out and read it again. My heart lurches at the sight of Lamar's name, and again at the fact I found out she was getting married by a piece of paper. She hadn't even thought to call first.

I think briefly of how little I'd been around in the last year. The radio show has kept me busy, as had the two new artists that I'm working with. So, I just took Rayna's word on the phone when she assured me that, "everything was fine." It was easier to take her answer at face value rather than go into detail about Deacon's sobriety and the tour.

Until I got the invitation, I hadn't thought much of her cancelling lunch with me a few months back. She was busy and so was I. Neither of us bothered to reschedule. If something had truly gone to hell again, I assumed I would hear about it. I always had in the past. Nashville was a small town and I was well connected. Lately though, things have been quiet. There'd been no chatter in the studio hallways about Deacon falling off the wagon again; there had been no newspaper articles detailing a new arrest report. I suppose that doesn't matter now. The thing I need to focus on is the date at the bottom of the invitation. The wedding is scheduled for Friday, June the 18th 1999. Today is Tuesday, June the 15th.

When I realized the invitation was legitimate, I drove right over to Rayna's condo. Upon arrival, I met this Mr. Conrad fellow. He seemed pleasant enough and certainly appeared to adore Rayna. I didn't say anything about the large ring on Rayna's finger several times, and didn't comment on the large garment bag hanging from the door frame with the words, 'Leland's Bridal Shoppe.' In fact, I didn't really say a whole lot at all. Instead, I just sat there dumbfounded when they asked me to stay for dinner.

I met Rayna's gaze while eating, her eyes begged me not to ask any questions. So instead, I exchanged pleasantries with the man I just met. Teddy went to Vanderbilt and was a junior executive at the bank. He was from Memphis and an only child. He and Rayna were looking at houses in Belle Meade. Tandy had set them up and they were planning a week long honeymoon in Jamaica.

Somewhere between Teddy telling me that the wedding cake icing was butter cream and his reciting the dinner menu, I zoned out. It was then I noticed there were no pictures of this man and Rayna in her apartment. I also noticed all the pictures of she and Deacon had been taken down. There were several large wrapped gifts pushed to an empty space beside the couch. They were early wedding presents, no doubt. I noticed how Teddy was constantly reaching out to touch her hand or pat her leg. While Rayna was always receptive to her finance's touches, she never initiated the contact. The second I finished my peach cobbler, Rayna shooed me out the door quickly claiming she had wedding plans to finish.

A man snoring in the row in front of me brings me back to the present. I look around, trying to find the stewardess to ask for some coffee. It just doesn't seem right that I'm drinking alcohol on my way to see Deacon in rehab. I watch as the nice young lady brings me back a hot cup of joe and sugar. I take a sip and take care not to glance out the window. There is no need to remind myself I'm at eye level with the clouds.

Over the two days following that awkward dinner, I called Rayna six times. She avoided all of my phone calls and apparently never checked her answering machine. I went by her apartment twice and saw her car parked in the lot both times. Still, nobody came to the door when I knocked.

So, last night, I just sat on the steps of Rayna's place for an hour until she came home. She told me she'd had a meeting with the caterer. It was then, I told Ms. Rayna Constance Wyatt in no uncertain terms we were going to have a long conversation. Reluctantly, she let me inside.

She went around in circles swearing she was happy and finally getting the life she always wanted. She kept calling Teddy "dependable and loving" and saying she was happier than she'd ever been. Her voice was too high pitched to sound sincere and she kept biting her lip, like her mother did when she was lying. When I brought up Deacon's name, she changed the subject to flower arrangements. Finally, an hour in, I stopped her mid-sentence. I calmly asked her why she was marrying a man she'd known for fifteen seconds.

"Teddy and I have been seeing each other for almost six months," she said in a singsong voice.

In response, I said Rayna's name quietly.

She just stared at me for a long moment then bit her lip again. Without another word she walked into the back bedroom and returned a moment later. She laid down a small black and white grainy picture. It took me a second to realize what I was looking at. Then her eyes met mine again.

"You're pregnant?" I asked.

She nodded. "Four months."

I offered my congratulations which made her smile. Then I asked once more why she was marrying Teddy. She sighed, telling me she knew Nashville would still have issues with her being a single mom. She went into a long spiel about giving the child a stable, happy home.

Then she'd offered that, "He loves me. He will be an amazing husband."

"Yes, but shouldn't the child's father have a say in all of this?" I asked.

Two minutes of denial later, Rayna admitted Deacon could be the father.

I was honestly surprised there was even a chance someone else could be the father. Then, Rayna explained her nonsensical plan to me. She and Teddy were going to get married; she would have the baby, and then figure out the rest. She admitted she didn't think Deacon could handle the idea of a child right now.

"He can barely handle himself right now," she'd said.

She explained the last seven months or so. Deacon's drinking was so bad he barely left the house before checking himself into rehab ten weeks ago. Apparently, his third round with sobriety lasted a couple of months. She'd taken him to rehab for a fourth time and he left eleven days in. Rayna said his temper was worse now and he missed more shows than he made. She'd hired a new lead guitar player and had to have some backup singer do vocals on the new tracks she was laying. She blamed the pills for that and said she suspected he was dabbling in cocaine again. She told me about the airplane bottles in the washing machine and the flask in his guitar case. She nearly blew herself up when she started the oven not realizing he hidden a bottle of Jim Bean inside. She had to take him off her insurance when he wrecked another car into a tree.

Rayna told me she'd paid for his latest trip to rehab. It was a place northwest of Colorado. She cried for a long while last night. She told me that she still loved him but confessed she couldn't wait anymore. She couldn't let what she wanted get in the way of what her child needed.

My coffee has gone cold, but I still take another sip and contemplate what I'm doing one more time.

Rayna will probably never forgive me for what I'm about to do, but Deacon deserves to know. Right now, Rayna is so confused and emotional that she isn't thinking straight. Deacon has worn Rayna down, but she still loves him. Deacon still loves her. They've been together for over a decade at this point. Now they are having a child together, or at least, couldbe having a child together.

She's making decisions based on what people like Lamar and Tandy think is best. Despite my long animosity with Lamar, I'm sure he believes Teddy Conrad is a better choice for Rayna and this baby. I'm sure Tandy feels the same way. Perhaps they are right. Still, Deacon deserves to know he could be a father. He deserves to know Rayna is engaged and her wedding is on Friday.

I look at my watch again. The plane will be in Denver within the hour. Then I'll have to deal with the rental car place. The facility is probably another two or three hours from there.

I reassure myself once again that this is the right thing to do. I didn't get a choice thirty years ago when Grace and Lamar made decisions for me, but I'm going to make sure that Deacon gets a say.

I lean back just as the plane starts to rock. It's gentle at first, then more pronounced. The pilot comes over the intercom and announces that we are going to be experiencing turbulence for a few moments. He insists there is nothing to be worried about. The plane rocks again, harder this time, and I notice my fingers are white from holding the armrest so tightly.

This is why I loathe flying, the turbulence. I realize that I'm getting ready to cause a storm much more powerful and dangerous than the one I'm going through now. As a song writer myself, I can't help but appreciate the poetry of it all.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much for the wonderful response to Chapter 1. Here is Chapter 2.

Like in Chapter 1, a huge thank you to Shiny Jewel for beta'ing this! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!

CHAPTER 2

The pilot confirms we are right on schedule for an 11:33 pm landing in Nashville. I look to my left, outside the window and see nothing but the black sky and the red glow from the lights on the wing. I smell the faint scent of alcohol and look around. I'm glad to see a younger woman sitting beside us drinking something. I know logically that Deacon isn't drinking right now, but still it scares me. If Deacon smells the liquor, he doesn't let on.

I think back on today. It had practically taken an Act of Congress to get into the facility. Then, I had to wait over an hour for Deacon to get back from a group meeting. I waited in his room, surprised by how sparse it was. The wall was cement block and the furniture was faux wood. For a place that cost so much, it looked cheap.

Deacon walked into the room and was clearly surprised to see me there.

Breathlessly, he asked what was wrong. I assured him Rayna was physically okay. I tripped over my words, realizing how inadequately I'd planned this whole thing. Just blurting out that Rayna was seventy two hours away from getting married seemed harsh.

Instead, I started with a question. "How much do you know about Teddy Conrad?"

I watched his bright eyes turn cloudy. He obviously knew the name. His voice was low and controlled when he answered back with a question of his own. "You mean the asshole Tandy set Ray up with?"

I nodded. To me, Teddy seemed nice enough. But if I was Deacon, Teddy would be an asshole too. Deacon's eyes narrowed when he asked again if Rayna was okay.

"She's fine. I actually saw her last night. It's the reason I flew out here to see you," I said.

Deacon's eyes panned over to my carry-on bag and then back to me. He knew how much I hated to fly. He stayed silent, realizing whatever I had to say was important. I spent the new few minutes apologizing for how busy I'd been the last year. I hadn't been there for him or for Rayna. Then I began walking around the room, pacing as best I could in the small space.

"I got an invitation in the mail a few days back. When I got it, I went right over to Rayna's condominium. When I got there, Rayna was there with this Teddy guy," I began.

Deacon's eyes were full of surprise and he waited for the other shoe to drop.

"This is what I got in the mail."

I reached into my carry-on luggage and handed him the invitation.

He made a face of disbelief. He looked back up at me and then back again to the invitation. He asked if this was a joke. When my face showed no sign of amusement, he looked back at the invitation again. It took at least twenty minutes for him to stop asking for confirmation that the invitation was real, but even then I could tell he was still in shock.

He mumbled to himself for a little while, things I didn't understand, things about promises and assumptions he'd made. He seemed almost lost in his own world of thoughts until he looked up again and asked, "Friday? This Friday?"

I crossed my arms in front of me, and then shook my head in confirmation.

Deacon asked, "Why the rush?"

I took a deep breath of mountain air and whispered, "She's pregnant."

Then, for the time in my life I saw Deacon Claybourne cry. His eyes pooled with tears and he pressed his lips together. He used the back of his hand to wipe away the tears and ran his hands through his beard.

He sat up suddenly and reached out to shake my hand. He said a quiet, "Thanks for letting me know." Then he asked if I would tell Rayna congratulations on the new husband and new baby. He practically chocked on the words.

It was then I had to talk to Deacon about the possibility that he could be the baby's father. At first, he insisted she'd have to be eight or nine months pregnant if that was true.

"She mentioned that you'd stayed at her condo several times over the last few months."

When his face showed no sign of recognition, I started talking a lot more about Rayna and Deacon's sex life than I ever anticipated. It was hardly detailed but dates and times were mentioned. His face went ashen with some sort of recognition.

{**}

It's the first time in two and half months that I've been in the same room with alcohol. My mouth feels dry and I swallow harshly. It's one thing to fight a demon when it's far away, untouchable, unattainable. It's another to have it three feet away, available on the beverage cart. The girl behind me is nursing a Crown and Coke. It smells familiar.

I hear Watty ask for two coffees and gladly accept the Styrofoam cup he hands me. The brown liquid is sweeter than the coffee I've been drinking at the facility. I could really use some Crown in my coffee right now. But that won't fix anything. If anything, it would make things much worse.

My leg shakes as I try to release some nervous energy. That doesn't work, so I run my hand through my hair. In vain, I try and remember the calming techniques that I learned during my daily anger management classes. I reach into my pocket and pull out the folded up invitation that Watty gave to me earlier. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear this was some drunken delusion.

Ray told me she was moving on when I left rehab last time. She said she couldn't keep waiting around until I ended up like Vince. That was why she agreed to go on some date with this Country Club wannabe. I met Teddy Conrad once when I went over to Ray's house. I had been drunk. I don't remember much about that night. Of course, I don't remember anything of the night before that or the night after that either.

In my daily meetings, we always talk about the people we have hurt because of our drinking. I've hurt Ray. God, I've hurt her. There were all the times that I never made it past the dressing room because I was so lit. There were the times I'd go outside to get the mail and come back the next morning. There was the fight I'd gotten into with Ray's new manager, that Bucky fellow. I didn't mean to break his arm but he was clearly flirting with Rayna after that show. She had to hire a replacement guitar player for the newest songs. She had to lie to the press when they asked why I wasn't at the Grammy's.

I keep staring at the invitation. My mind keeps reeling. Rayna had someone else propose to her. Rayna told some other guy she wanted to marry him. She already has a wedding dress and a ring. She has flower arrangements picked out and is having buttercream icing on the wedding cake. The whole thing just seems unreal. Rayna is getting married.

It has been years since she and I talked about marriage. She's never pressed the issue, and truth is I've avoided the conversation like the plague. My parents' marriage was a disaster and then my mom's marriage to my stepfather was worse. But the truth is, I was afraid of where we'd go after we got married. Marriage conversations always lead to a conversation about kids.

Then, I think about why Rayna is getting married to this asshole. Rayna's pregnant.

I thought Rayna was trying to prove a point by dating Teddy fucking Conrad. I didn't think they were... it just never occurred to me she was sleeping with this prick. But she is. And that thought makes me sick. I swear, I feel the vomit coming up my throat but I fight it. Then, my stomach clinches in nervousness at the idea that this is my kid. Truth is, the only thing that scares me more than being the father of this baby, is not being the father of this baby.

Watty asks me how I'm holding up. I don't even know how to answer that. He gives me a sympathetic look as the plane drops significantly.

{**}

We must be close to landing now. We've already discussed that I'll drive Deacon over to Rayna's condo since he doesn't have a car, or insurance, or a license.

I feel the landing gear come down from underneath my seat. They say in first class you aren't supposed to feel the bumps or hear the sounds of the plane. I always do.

I look over at Deacon who is deep in thought. I hope I've done the right thing. It's too late to take anything back now. I just hope and pray that Rayna can forgive me in due time and realize that Deacon needed to know the truth. I know she will view what I did as a betrayal. I've watched Rayna with Lamar. She is very good at holding grudges and she's stubborn. But in time, she'll forgive me. At least that is what I hope.

Who knows? Maybe after the storm has settled I can be a part of Rayna and my grandchild's life.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you so much for the wonderful comments! A huge thank you to Shiny Jewel who Beta'd the first two chapters (way more than she volunteered for) and for Deb who helped me with this one!

CHAPTER 3

I know New York is considered the city that never sleeps but truth is, neither does Nashville. Starving musicians who work the first shift at restaurants bustle their way downtown while all night deejays host singers that nobody has ever heard of. Downtown glows with neon signs even in the early morning hours as music executives make their way into their high rise offices. Tootsies and Banana Duke's start booking signers as early as 10 am.

No, Nashville is never really quiet. But tonight as I watch Deacon walk up the cement stairs to Rayna's place the entire city seems to be holding its breath. Rayna's car is in the same space it was in last night but that doesn't mean she's there. She could very well be with Teddy. I did offer to go to the door with Deacon but he insisted this was something he needed to do on his own.

I gave Deacon a twenty for the cab ride home. I could tell he wanted to give the money back to me for several reasons, namely pride and hope that Rayna would want him to spend the night. But he took the money after I insisted and gave me a humble "thank you." Then I told him I'd drop off his luggage at his house in the morning.

I lose sight of Deacon as he puts hands in his pocket and rounds the building. I clutch the steering wheel out of some nervous habit. I'll wait ten minutes and if Deacon hasn't returned by then, I'll go head home to my place.

I don't know if I believe in God but I send up a prayer just in case. If prayer does work, Deacon needs it now.

I've done the walk Deacon is doing now. Only my walk was when Rayna was nearing her second birthday. Perhaps, if I'd stayed in Nashville after Gracie told me she was going back to Lamar I would have known from the beginning.

Instead, I joined Ronnie Boodine's tour, as a picker on the road. Even when I returned to Tennessee, I avoided anything having to do with Lamar or Gracie for well over two years. It wasn't difficult. I lived in the darkness of honkytonks and late night recording sessions and she stayed in the high society of Belle Meade.

(**)

I tighten my fist as a faint rumble of thunder fills the air. I've knocked three times now and still haven't heard her voice or the television or even patter of feet. I begin to think either she's not there or she's asleep in that back bedroom and can't hear me. Then I hear the click of the lock and a second later I find myself face to face with Ray.

She's wearing one of her old Garth Brooks t-shirts from a tour we did six or seven years ago. It's frayed at the bottom and the neck hole is much large now than it used to be. I can see her collar bone and half her shoulder. She is wearing a pair of my old pajama bottoms. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail with curls and pieces flying in all directions. She had been asleep. But I'm focused on her blue eyes. They hold a mixture of exhaustion and surprise. She says my name twice before her words sink in and I realize that I'm supposed to say something.

I ask to come inside and she hesitates. She has one of those internal battles with herself and looks back into her place. It occurs to me that Teddy might be in there, in her bed. I get angry at the thought, then I get angrier at the idea that if he was in her condo, he'd let Rayna open the door after midnight by herself.

She finally finishes her internal conversation and opens the door more fully. For a second, it feels like it always does with just me and her. I've apologized and begged my way back into her house and life more times than I can remember. But as she turns the light on in the living room I'm reminded of how different this time is.

There is a suitcase in the floor with her clothes and dresses neatly packed. There are white and silver packages grouped together in a corner. There are two velvet boxes sitting onto the mantle and my breath catches as I realize those would be wedding rings. I turn back to Rayna. Her body twists as she sits on the couch and I can make out a small area of her stomach poking out. This is really happening.

I say her name but she won't look at me. Instead she brings her legs up to rest beside of her and fiddles with the diamond ring on her hand. It catches the light and blinds me for a second. It is big.

In a tired voice she says my name and then she ask what I am doing here.

I can see the ring on her finger, I can see wedding presents on the floor. I have the damn invitation in my back pocket. But I need to ask.

"Are you marrying him?" I say as loudly as I can manage but the words break in my throat so I try again. This time I actually get the words out.

Her eyes follow a path across the floor. She says a weak "yes. On Friday." and meets my gaze.

We look at each other for a long moment and I feel like I'm falling off a cliff. I pull my eyes away from her and stare at my boots. The silence between us last for a long time but I don't look at her and I don't feel her eyes on me.

Her voice sounds stronger when she speaks again. "What are you doing here?"

I rub a hand across my jaw. I say the easiest truth I have, "Got out of rehab. Ten weeks sober."

She tells me she me that she is proud of me a voice that is full of sincerity and honesty. But in her voice, there is a lack of excitement about my accomplishment. Truth is, I can barely get excited over my own sobriety. We've been down this road before.

44 days sober is one night away from blowing it all to hell.

Ray continues to stare at the floor, and the wall, and any place but where I'm standing. She says she spoke to Coleman while I was gone. Cole told her it was a three month program and she didn't expect me back in town for a few more weeks.

"I did two months at the main place and was planning to do another month in the half-way house. But I needed to see you."

Silence fills the air again. It's so quiet; I hear the buzz of the fridge and a moment later hear the air conditioning kick on.

I'm looking at her now, watching her. She looks like a scared little girl. Her arms are wrapped around his chest and her eyes look everywhere but in my direction.

I knew the answer to my next question but ask it anyways. I ask Rayna if she's pregnant. She whimpers back another "yes."

(***)

I tell Deacon I need ten minutes and excuse myself without glancing back. I breeze into my bedroom and walk past the shoes I've bought for the wedding. The alarm clock blinks 1:09 as I head for the bathroom. I close the bathroom door and lean against it for a second. I don't know why but I walk over to the bathtub, pull back the shower curtain and step inside the porcelain circle.

I sit down carefully. My legs are wobbly and my hands are shaking. He hasn't asked me outright if he is baby's father but it is just a matter of time. He's already asked how far I am along and whether I know if it is a boy or a girl. He's only asked those questions to build up his nerve to ask if he's the father.

I just need a minute to gather my thoughts and be alone. I need distance from Deacon and if the length of the bedroom and the closed bathroom door wasn't enough, I pull the shower curtain around to cocoon me.

He's sober now or I suppose I should say sober again.

I need to figure out which answer I need to give him. My mind zips in twenty different directions, each with a different scenario.

I could flat out deny that he being the father is even possible. Deacon didn't know I had gotten off birth control as a way to discourage myself from falling back into his arms. He doesn't know Teddy and I always used condoms. He doesn't remember some drunken night with sloppy kisses and rough touches on the washing machine. He also doesn't remember the night a week later when I showed up at his place. I don't know which is better, having your child conceived on a washing machine or against the door in your father's bedroom. Either way, that detail isn't going in the baby book. But he could always demand a DNA test or perhaps the child will pop out with Deacon's dimples and a guitar strap. There be no denying his paternity then.

I could tell Deacon that he might be the father. Perhaps he would spend the next five months in bars telling drunken sailors and teenage boys with fake IDs that he was praying the DNA test would come back negative. Maybe he'd blame me for forcing him to the father.

There is always a possibility that the baby is Teddy's. It's just not likely. What if Deacon wants the baby and I end up devastating him when the test comes back? He's fallen off the wagon because we got into a fight about a chord. One chord sent him over the edge, a child's paternity would be a catastrophe. I shake my head as I feel the tears spill out.

Deacon's never wanted children. Deacon has too many bad memories of his own childhood and sees children as a handicap. Young children on the road were impractical at best and realistically they were impossible. Children hindered the ability to stay out all night or take a road trip for a few days just because the urge hit him.

He used to make faces when guys in the band would talk about their families. They would tell stories of having sex once a month, diaper rash, breast feeding, and car seats. "Just wait 'til it's your turn," they'd joke and he would laugh back a "no way in hell."

But it isn't just him. We're both selfish about the other's time. That is why I've never pressed the issue of children, I've never known if I really wanted to add someone else to our relationship. I've been Deacon's first, second, and third priority and he's always been mine too.

A child changes that. It has already changed that.

That is why I need to calm down and think this through. Teddy and I are getting married in forty-eight hours. I've got the dress back from the seamstress. It is hardly the wedding dress I envisioned. Certainty the empire waistline to hide my stomach wasn't what I anticipated wearing. But still, my wedding dress is here. The flowers are probably already at the florist. The wedding cake is probably already in the freezer. The bird seed is already wrapped up and in a basket. Our plane tickets for our honeymoon are on my nightstand.

I nod as recall all the reasons I am doing this.

Teddy is stable. He loves this baby regardless of who the father is. When I told that Deacon and I had sex while we were dating, he was hurt. But Teddy didn't punch the wall or break a lamp. He didn't threaten to kill Deacon or half of the country. That certainly would have been Deacon's response.

And that leads me to another thought: Deacon's temper . It has always been bad. I've jumped out of the way at flying lamps and beer bottles. I've known better than to run after him when he jumps into his car before I can grab the keys. I've had my fair of sore shoulders from trying to break up a fight between Deacon and some nameless guy.

A child is different. A child wouldn't think anything of running after their father in the driveway. A child wouldn't to duck out of the way when their father throws a beer bottle. Deacon has driven drunk more times than I care to think about. What if he drove with the baby? What if there was a wreck like with Vince?

That thought terrifies me.

Deacon would never intentionally hurt me or a kid. But flesh rips and bruises form whether the act was intentional or just some drunken mistake.

I pull my knees up to my forehead, still hiding behind the shower curtain. I realize it's been much longer than the ten minutes I asked for. The tears come harder now and my lungs heave trying to find oxygen. I don't hear him open the door. But I do see the shower curtain move slightly. I realize he's sitting on the bathroom floor and despite the curtain between us, I can feel the heat of his body.

I see his hand peak through the fabric and yet still we don't say anything. He offers torn toilet paper as substitute for a Kleenex. I take it and wipe away my tears. I sniffle and blow my nose a few times. His hand comes back and gives me more toilet paper. He stays quiet while I work on calming myself down.

I tell him to go ahead and ask and he does.

"Am I the father?"

Instead of answering the question, I ask one of my one. "Do you want to be?"

I hear nothing for a moment, and then the shower curtain gets pulled back. We are face to face now. He whispers an "I think so" to my question.

I bit my lip and nod before answering his questions with the same, "I think so too."

I cry harder and he breathes deeper. Eventually, Deacon reaches for my hand and I clasp it like a life line. We stay like that for a few moments. I stretch out again in the tub and focus on my toe nail polish. I glance at him and his eyes are focused on my stomach. We don't say anything; we are both trying to let our minds catch up.

Eventually I take our joined hands and bring them closer to my body. His eyes follow my hand motions as I place his hand over my stomach. His eyes widened but the rest of his face stays still as he fingers spread wide over my skin.

We spend the next twenty minutes like this. I'm fully dressed in the bathtub and he is cramped between the toilet and the side of the tub. The palm of his hand never moved from my abdomen but his finger stroked and swirled and moved over my t-shirt. It was like he was trying to memorize the shape of my stomach.

Eventually I offer an answer to a question he doesn't ask.

"I think it was on top of the washing machine."

He laughs out loud. It is a sound I haven't heard in so long. In the last eighteen months I've heard Deacon laugh in that bitter, sarcastic way that makes me want to scream. This laugh though, is my Deacon's laugh. It's light and airy. It is laughter born out of happiness and amusement.

I raise an eyebrow and he suggests the name "Kenmore Whirlpool Claybourne."

Then my heart sinks and suddenly the fog that Deacon always cast in my brain clears. I'm fourty-eight hours away from being a Conrad, not a Claybourne.

I wipe my eyes even though my tears are already dried. I awkwardly pull myself away from Deacon and stand up in the tub.

"You need to go," I insist and I can tell he's surprised. So I tell him he needs to go again. Deacon stands up too and follows me out of the bathroom. He calls my name several times before I turn around.

(**)

I groan as I'm awaked by the shrill sound of the phone ringing. I didn't bother to take off my ring from last night and blink several times before I realize it is a few minutes before 7 am.

I answer with a little trepidation. It is Rayna and I can tell by the few words she spits out at me that she's angry. In the fewest words possible she lets me know that I'm not welcome at the wedding nor am I welcome in her life anymore.

The phone goes dead and the loud beeping of the dial tone fills my ear.


	4. Chapter 4

**First, thank you all so much for all the kind and wonderful comments! I seriously cannot thank you enough for all the comments and PMs. Thank you so much to Shiny Jewel for once again being the Beta on this. I can't thank you enough! **

**CHAPTER 4**

I take off the headphones in my radio booth. Today's show had no songs by John Conlee.

Today, my listeners heard simple songs about happiness and love.

There were certainly no Rayna Jaymes songs. They didn't hear anything about heartbreak or loneliness.

Today, everything was modern and packaged and simple.

(***)

The sound of screeching chairs against the linoleum floor makes my skin crawl, but soon the twelve or so of us are in a circle.

The sponsor calls the meeting to order. He's an older guy, probably in his mid-sixties. He introduces himself as Andy and welcomes all newcomers to the group. I zone out while Andy tells his story. I know his story. I've heard it at least twenty times. His story is about divorce, two grown kids who still don't talk to him, and a law license that was taken away.

Then, Lisa stands up. She's a regular here and comes in before her shift at the BP station down the road. Her story is of an abusive uncle. She talks about her two plus years of sobriety. The first time I heard Lisa speak, she'd been sober a few months. I'd been sober a few months too. Now, Lisa has been sober for 882 days versus my 77 days. Well, 77 days again.

I know we aren't supposed to look backwards. We're supposed to take things day by day, but the truth hits me in the face. Lisa has had over 800 days of sobriety, meetings and making up for all the hell she's put her friends and family through. I've had over 800 days of lying, drinking and broken promises.

I stand up when there is a lull.

I introduce myself and then rub my fingers along the back of my neck. It's a nervous habit I've always had. I tell the group how long I've been sober and then let out a chuckle of nervous energy. I tell them I've gotten sober seven times. There have been five official trips to rehab, and two more attempts without professional help. I tell them about the place in Colorado, then stop myself and look around.

I recognize Andy and Lisa and a few other regulars, but there are a couple people I don't know and I realize I can't say what I want to here. I know AA is anonymous but the allure of money from one of those rags for a story about Rayna Jaymes is huge. This particular story would be one of Rayna being pregnant and unsure if her fiancé or drunk of an ex-boyfriend was the father. I awkwardly end my testimony and sit down. As soon as the meeting is adjourned, I walk out the back door.

(***)

I look at my reflection in the mirror. Between the navy hue and the wrap-around design, the bump is fairly well concealed. My boobs on the other hand, are much tougher to hide. The safety pin holds the material together so the dress doesn't look indecent, but it is still fairly revealing. I fluff my hair and reapply my lip gloss. The rehearsal itself went off without a hitch. If anyone missed Watty, nobody voiced it.

Now we are halfway through the rehearsal dinner at the Country Club in the private dining room. Tandy and Daddy really outdid themselves with the dinner.

Coleman arrived late and apologized, claiming the law firm was keeping him busy. I know better. Cole was with Deacon at the Second Presbyterian Church for their six o'clock meeting. I know where all the AA meetings are in the greater Nashville area. I've had the schedule memorized for at least the last eighteen months.

Coleman catches my gaze and politely smiles before shaking Daddy's hand and getting lost in a conversation about expensive cigars and some litigation over the new town hall building site. If Teddy notices anything odd, he doesn't let on, and soon he's taking a fork to his champagne glass to get the attention of the small crowd.

Teddy stands up and thanks everyone for coming. His parents smile proudly as he tells a story about his first girlfriend. It is charming and makes the entire room laugh. Then, he turns towards me and recounts our first date. His words are sincere and I have a hard time swallowing. I don't deserve a guy like Teddy. Sure, he does the little things like bring me flowers for no reason at all, but it is so much more than that. I can breathe when Teddy leaves to run errands. I don't have to follow him to the bathroom in restaurants. He's calm and patient. He's easy to forgive me and quick to defend me. He avoids confrontation.

I watch him smile as he gazes down at me. I swear he looks at me like I'm something unattainable and special. It brings tears to my eyes.

Then, reality hits me. Teddy doesn't know I am selfish. He's never seen me knock over a microphone stand or walk out of a rehearsal because things aren't the way I want them. He's never heard me cuss out Daddy or Tandy. He doesn't know how much I like being the center of attention. He didn't live through all the messy and unflattering parts of my past. That's both a terrifying and comforting thought at the same time.

A moment later we are cutting a cake in the shape of a dollar bill. Apparently, this is Teddy's groom's cake, a witty play on his job at the bank. He kisses me on the lips and thanks me. I had no clue any of this was happening, but accept his kiss just the same.

It's too kitschy be something Daddy did, so it must have been Tandy. The crowd of about fifteen is clapping and several of the guys start cat-calling in an attempt to get Teddy and me to kiss again. We do.

Coleman does a head tilt to let me know he wants to talk to me alone. It's the same head tilt he's given me dozens of times before to tell me that Deacon is drunk in the bathroom. Years ago, he gave me that head tilt as a sign to distract Daddy long enough to get Tandy climb back in the upstairs window after a long night out.

It takes a few tries, but eventually I pry myself away from the festivities and head down the hall. Coleman is waiting on a bench overlooking the ninth hole. I sit down beside him and look out over the greens, not bothering to comment on the beautiful picture that the sunset made.

"He wants to see you," Cole says in a voice that tells me he thinks it is a bad idea. It is a bad idea.

Coleman goes into a long monologue about how fragile Deacon's sobriety is right now. He worries that Deacon left the program early, and that giving Deacon false hope about our relationship will send him right back to the bottle. I nod and listen. Nothing Coleman is says is wrong or untrue.

I play with my ring. I don't need to be reminded of the tightrope I'm walking. Coleman excuses himself and I watch as he walks back down towards the party. I spot Teddy coming out of the banquet room. He smiles as he makes his way down the hall and joins me on the bench.

He asks if I'm feeling okay and I shake my head. I tell him Deacon's back in town and I hear an angry intake of air.

I choose my words carefully with a simple, "I saw him Tuesday night."

(***)

I pull my old truck over to the corner of Bullard and Mint Hill. Tandy's place is a block down the road, and I know if Rayna sees me driving she'll hide, so I park the truck here and start to walk. The air is thick with the Tennessee humidity that June often brings. Halfway down the street, I realize I'm sweating. It's nearing nine o'clock and I hear the rumble of heat lightening in the distance.

I quicken my stride as I pass the pink house. I can make out Tandy's porch in the distance, the inside lights are all on. The white rocking chairs are empty, but one rocks slowly as if it was recently occupied. Then I see Rayna. She's on the far end of the swing, away from the harsh lights. Her hair is down and her eyes are focused on the ceiling above her. Tandy's beside Rayna on the swing, with a wine glass in hand.

I just watch the two sisters for a minute. I can hear murmurs but can't make out what either one of them is saying. My stomach sinks when I hear Rayna laughing from the yard next door. She's happy. She's happy because tomorrow she's getting married. That thought causes me to turn around and walk a few feet back towards my truck.

I can't lose my nerve now, though. Neither woman is paying attention to the sidewalk as I make my way up the cement path. It isn't until I'm right in front of them, that either notice I'm there. I ignore Tandy when she tells me to leave, and again when she asks if I've been drinking.

I meet Rayna's gaze. She can tell I'm sober by looking at me. It makes me feel even more ashamed that I used to lie to her and swear I hadn't been drinking. Her lips hold a frown and her eyes seem tired, but Rayna still asks Tandy to leave the two of us alone for a few moments. Tandy protests, but after a few moments she strolls into the house, promising to be back in five minutes.

Ray says my name softly and moves to get out of the swing but I ask her to stay. I put my hands in my pockets and start telling her about my day. I describe the first meeting at the church fellowship hall with Lisa and Andy, then the second one at the library. I tell her that both times I stood up to say give my testimony but I couldn't do it. I watch as Rayna's face tilts to the side and the way her hair falls around her face. Despite no makeup on her face and the frown she's wearing, I get caught up for a second at how beautiful she is. I use to tell her how she was beautiful all the time. Now I can't even remember the last time I gave her a compliment.

I swallow the lump in my throat and fumble over my words until I finally spit them out in a jumble.

"See at AA we are supposed to stand up and give our testimony," I say. "You know…tell the story of how we ended up here. We're supposed to be honest about the things we've done and the things we've lost because of our addictions."

She tries to stand up again and says my name slowly. She doesn't want to hear this right now and tells me that.

"Ray, please," I beg with tears in my eyes and my hands still in my pockets.

She doesn't say anything back, instead her eyes soften a bit and then I start talking.

"Truth is, you know all about me and you probably know everything I'm about to tell you. But I need to tell you the truth and own everything I've done to you and to us."

I let out a self-deprecating laugh before I start. I'm not even sure what I hope to accomplish but I need to say it.

She looks at me confused and then I start telling her things even I thought I forgot.

"I stole two twenties from your pocket book once. I knew you checked my credit cards for bar tabs and grocery store bills to see if I was staying sober, so I stole forty dollars. I bought some cheap ass beer and got drunk in the truck."

She swallowed and her eyes locked with mine.

"When I told you that I'd never tried heroin that was a lie. I did it once with Vince and Tommy when you and Tandy went on that shopping trip. I did it for a couple weeks with Tommy after you left last time. "

I see Rayna's bottom lip quiver as I keep telling her things that she probably already knows.

I tell her about where I really was the night nobody could find me in New Orleans. I tell her every single hiding place at my apartment. She knows most of them except the hole in the TV stand. I admit to taping airplane bottles to the underside of the couch and admit to every kind of pill I've taken. I tell her my dealer stays on Hogan, at one of those roach motels near the highway, and about the time she dropped me off for a meeting at the hospital and I hid in the gift shop until I saw her car pull away. How after that, I went to the sports bar down the street and ordered a shot.

She starts to cry when I tell her that I forgot her birthday the year before and had to flirt with the bakery owner in order to get her a cake.

Then in a low voice I tell her I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of it.

"I'm sorry for all the times I lied to you. I'm sorry I ruined the last tour. I'm sorry that I can't remember the last time I told you how beautiful you are."

She sniffs back the tears and looks at me, biting her lip until I'm sure its bleeding. But I keep going, in part because she deserves to hear this and in part because I want to make this moment last.

I feel like I should say something profound about how happy I want her to be and wish her congratulations. But I can't look her in the eye so instead I stare at her feet which are hanging over the swing. I say the words and the truth is I think I mean them. Then I tell her I'm going back to Colorado. I had originally intended to stay in the half-way house for a few more weeks and think it'd be good for me. She nods and agrees. I nod too because I'm not sure what else I should do. I tell her I'll be back before the baby's born. I look into her eyes one more time and see nothing but confusion and hurt.

I quickly turn around and go back down the stairs. Before I really even process what I'm doing, I'm halfway down the street and then a moment later, pulling open the truck door and jumping inside.

(***)

I push 'pause' on the CD player and grimace. What a terrible way to spend a Saturday morning, listening to the career of an artist deteriorate before it starts. I really do think this kid Patrick has something special but it just isn't coming through on recordings. That happens sometimes: great talent, great stage presence, but they don't translate to radio. Or sometimes, radio loves a voice but their stage presence is non-existent.

I hear a booming voice calling my name and for the first syllable, I feel a sense of trepidation at some stranger in my house. Then, I hear another syllable and recognize the Southern drawl. A second later, Lamar slowly walks into my office as if he's entitled to be here. He has one hand resting in his seersucker pants while the other holds onto his straw hat. He's lacking his usual cigar and tumbler of brandy, yet still the words 'Tennessee Mafia Head' flashes through my mind.

I ask him what he is doing in my home and he smirks. Instead of answering my question, he walks around the main living room. His eyes dart around the room, pausing at a picture of Rayna and me performing at the CMAs a few years ago. It is one of a dozen up there of me on the mantle with various artists. Lamar picks it up and traces the wooden edges of the frame.

His voice breaks the silence.

"Let me one thing perfectly clear. When Rayna does marry Teddy, I'll be walking her down the aisle. Their children will call me Grandpa. On the third Sunday in June, they'll be at my house. "

I say nothing as I look Lamar in the eye. He narrows them as if he wanted to say something else but apparently decides against it. Then, Just as oddly as he entered, he exits.

I shake my head for a moment. Then, I realize what Lamar just said and I feel myself smile.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to Deb for betaing this chapter. I want to apologize in advance. I am un-expectantly filling in for a co-worker in an out of state meeting. So I won't be around for about a week for update!**

**Thanks you again for your overwhelming support of both this and "They Don't Know" which I promise will be updated as soon as I get back or get a chance to review it while working.**

**Chapter 5**

I grimace and breathe through the pain in my stomach as Bucky keeps talking. In the movies, they always make a baby kicking out to be sweet and tingly feeling. It is not a sweet or funny feeling. It fucking hurts. The baby still has 8 weeks to cook in there and it's already punching me in the uterus over and over again. If this is easy compared to contractions, I am getting drugged up.

The new CEO, Bradford Gabbles mentions how unfortunate it is that I've postponed the wedding until after the baby is born. It is the third time he's brought it up in the hour-long minute meeting. The truth is I know his concerns. I have them too.

Nashville is at its core a town with southern values, small minded people, and big mouths. But instead of agreeing that Bradford has a point or trying to justify my very personal opinion, I smile brightly as though I haven't heard a word he said. And the baby kicks again and I swallow the pain with my fake smile.

Then I let the new President and the PR guru sitting to his left know that my latest album bought Edgehill the second and third floors of building we are sitting in. I remind them my tours and my record sales have paid for their salaries, their BMWs, and single-handedly made Edgehill a top name in country music.

I remind them that Deacon went to jail four times while he was still signed with Edgehill and our record sales didn't suffer a bit. I smirk as I remind them that the lead singer in the band they just signed has a girlfriend half his wife's age.

Then I not so politely say, I don't have time for this bullshit today. They call my name as I head for the door. Bucky catches up to me as I reach the elevator and ask me to come back inside. I decline and tell Bucky that I couldn't stay any longer anyways, I've got my appointment at 4 o'clock. He wishes me good luck this time and I smile, "hopefully the baby will cooperate. I've got to start doing the nursery." Bucky kisses me on the cheek and I glide into the elevator. My stomach heaves again and I look down at my stomach and tell it that it better, "be getting in the right position."

Bucky ask if Teddy is going to meet me there and I shake my head no, "He's been to the rest of them but he's got some big evaluation at the bank today."

Then he asks about Deacon and my eyes narrow.

"Deacon's still in Colorado."

Bucky shoots me a 'guess again' look.

I bite my lip and put my hand over my stomach again. Buck tilts his head to the side and ask if I'm okay.

I'm not really sure how to answer that question. Things have been in such limbo for the last two months. Teddy and I went to Jamaica together, just like we planned. Only it wasn't our honeymoon, instead it was just a fun, relaxing week off. If Teddy felt awkward when the staff called us "Mr. and Mrs. Conrad", he didn't say anything.

As soon as we got back, Teddy moved into my apartment and last week we went to view a few houses in the Belle Meade area. We kick around baby names almost every night. The two of us have gone to 'Babies R Us' and found a couple of car seats and strollers we like. We haven't bought very much or made final decisions on anything. I don't bring up Deacon's name and neither does he.

It is like we are waiting on the other shoe to drop. And now the cowboy boot known as Deacon is back and will force us to begin this long unfinished conversation that hangs in the air between us.

(***)

I lost the lease on my apartment months ago. I was a terrible tenant. My check got there whenever I remembered it and whenever I hadn't blown all my money on pills. Plus, my deposit was shot to hell after I punched the hole through the wall within weeks of moving in. A month after that, I threw one of the kitchen barstools through the window. It didn't completely break the frame but all the glass shattered. Needless to say, they were looking for any excuse to get rid of me. So when I went to Colorado, they called my emergency contact. Cole and Audrey picked up my stuff and put it in the garage.

Coleman knocks on my door and opens it without waiting for an answer. He does it as a subtle reminder that I'm still not to be fully trusted yet. It is honestly one of the main reasons I took Cole and Audrey up on their offer to use the spare bedroom for a few weeks. I still need someone watching over my shoulder.

I'd only intended to stay at the center for a few weeks but then the weight of everything hit me. Being a father scares me shitless. I don't know how to tell if a baby is crying because they are hungry or need to change a diaper. Hell, I don't know how to change a diaper. I have never burped a baby. I don't know how to make a baby fall asleep.

But those things scare me so does the rest of it. I don't want a kid to grow up with a drunk for a father. No kid should see their father go off to jail, or go off to rehab again, or try to fight their grandfather over Thanksgiving dinner. I haven't been able to stay sober for Rayna or for music. Those are the only two things I love.

My thoughts are interrupted when there is a soft knock on the door. It's Coleman and he hands me the cordless phone. He mouths the words, "It's Rayna."

(***)

I put my hands in my pocket as I walk into the doctor's office. For some reason, I feel completely out of my element. I've been in plenty of doctor's offices before but something about all the pregnant women sitting on chairs is weird. I hear the receptionist use the words "lactation" and "pumping" and suddenly I want to be anywhere but here. The woman at the front desk smiles at me when I give her my name. Through the glass sliding door the woman instructs me that "she is already in the back."

I walk through the narrow hallway and arrive at room, the nurse with purple scrubs and frizzy hair opens the door. And there was Rayna sitting on the weird bed-chair thing. Her hair is more golden than red in the bright lights of the doctor's office. She is wearing some weird pink paper dress and she smiles at me. Even though she sitting down and is wearing some paper dress, I can tell stomach is so much bigger now.

She says my name smiling and I ask if I'm too late. The nurse interjects and lets me know that while I've missed the examination, "the big reveal hasn't happened yet." Then the woman excuses herself.

Rayna looks at me expectantly and bites her lip. She finally breaks the silence and tells me that I look good. I nod and put my hands in my back pocket and tell her she does too. My eyes travel down to her stomach and settle there.

"It's a lot bigger now, huh?," she asks. I make a growl of agreement, not really sure how to say her stomach looks bigger without her taking it as me calling her fat. She reaches out her arm and I walk towards her. She takes my hand by the wrist and pulls me closer to her until my hand is resting right below her breast. She tells me to just leave it there and I watch her eyes for a minute. Then I feel movement, its slight at first. My eyes widened when I ask if that was supposed to happen.

She bites her lip and holds my hand in place. A few seconds pass until I feel a much harder punch.

"Whoa," I smile and look back at her stomach and then back up to her. Her eyes hold a sense of wonder but also a bit of discomfort. We talk for a minute about rehab. I tell her I stayed longer than I'd planned because I needed to make sure I knew what I was doing. I told her that I was still really scared.

She nodded and said she felt the same.

"I love this baby. I do and I am so excited but at the same time I have no idea what I am doing."

I say she'll make a great mom but she shakes her head. "I mean I don't know what I'm doing about anything. I never babysat as a little girl, I was too busy sneaking into bars and hating Daddy. "Then she whispers that she hopes it a boy.

I smile and ask why.

"Boys can pee off the side of the deck and nobody cares if their hair isn't perfect. Girls are complicated and emotional. Plus all little girl's clothes are pink and I hate pink. What if it is a girl and she has my red hair and has to wear pink for the first five years of her life?"

I laugh and shake my head, "I totally agree, girls are way more complicated. But Ray, you know that you can't pass on the hair color you get from a bottle, right? That's not how it works."

She playfully slaps my elbow closest to her and I laugh. Then the nurse comes in and asks if we are ready to see if the baby will cooperate this time.

Rayna nods and turns towards me. "If he or she doesn't pose for the camera this time, we will have to wait until the delivery." We reposition ourselves so that I'm standing at Rayna's head while the doctor lifts the paper dress and folds it up near the top of her belly. After the weird gel is put on her stomach, the screen stays black for a minute. Then it turns on.

The nurse points to different parts of the screen. The weird flashing thing is its heart. I can see its spine and the legs and the arms. But I don't see one particular part so I turn my head to the side. About that time the nurse says, "Congratulations Ms. Jaymes, you are going to have your very own Princess of Country."

Her blue eyes light up and I can't help but smile. The nurse excuses herself again, but leaves a picture of the baby up on the screen. I don't notice the door closing or the words she says. I just keep looking at the picture up on the screen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Here is Chapter 6. First and foremost a HUGE HUGE HUGE thank you to Shiny Jewel for betaing. This story has grown and changed so much from its conception. Sorry this has taken so long but the next chapter should be much quicker! Thank you for all your support and comments. They have been tremendous and overwhelming. You all are amazing!**

**CHAPTER 6**

I listen carefully as Teddy's footsteps grow louder on the hardwood. I hear him walk over the creak in the foyer, and the floor groans under Teddy's weight and harsh step. Daddy says the noisy floor-boards add character to the house. I brace myself for the slamming door that never comes. I don't even hear it close behind Teddy. I only know he's left the mansion when I catch a peek of his car moving quickly down the driveway.

Teddy has every right to be furious with me and this fight has been simmering for a while. Last week we went to view three different houses with the realtor and I dismissed all of them. They were beautiful with winding staircases, hardwood floors, modernized kitchens and rolling lawns that spanned at least an acre. One of the houses even had a nursery already painted a beautiful shade of lavender. It was perfect. Only I hated it.

Hell, I was downright rude to the realtor. Teddy isn't only mad at that though. He hates that Deacon was at my doctor's appointment while he was working, and clearly didn't like that I bought the yellow car seat without him. Teddy's still confused and hurt as to why I wanted to postpone the wedding.

All of that aside, I think I just really crossed the line. Teddy checked our AOL account on Daddy's computer and there was an email from Vanderbilt Birthing Center thanking us for coming to tour their facility. It also provided a list of confirmed guests we were allowing into the room while I was in labor.

Originally we'd agreed on three people: Tandy and Teddy's parents. My father would rather spit nails than be anywhere near that room. But the last name on the list was one we hadn't discussed. I had added Deacon's name while Teddy was speaking with one of the nurses at the end of the tour.

Deacon deserves to be in there to there to see his daughter for the first time. If the baby is even his daughter, that is.

I'm not so sure Deacon wants to be in the birthing suite. As much as I hate hospitals, Deacon loathes them even more. He's still haunted by the memories of Vince's wreck. It's been nearly three years but those hours of waiting in the waiting room for news on Vince still haunts me too. Deacon has that memory mixed in with his more recent memories of visits. Most visits to the ER to get his stomach pumped. Other times he was there after whatever bar room brawl he was in turned a little too rough and he needed stitches. He's woken up with restraints on his hands and tubes down his throat. He's had the police called on him by the ER nurses for the pills found in his pocket. He's started the pain of withdrawal down the hall in triage. Yeah, Deacon hates the hospital.

Plus, no man wants to watch the miracle of birth happen. Deacon nearly throws a fit when I make him buy tampons. I guess I should say - he threw a fit back when I made him buy tampons. He turned green at the doctor's office when he glanced at the diagram of the birthing canal. I know he has no desire to cut the umbilical cord or see whatever the hell the afterbirth is. I've heard that some men don't see their wives as sexy once they see them give birth. They have flashbacks of the baby's head and the groaning and the pain. I shake my head at where I'm going with all of this. I'm not Deacon's wife, I'm not Deacon's fiancée and I shouldn't care if he ever finds me sexually attractive again. But I do care. I do worry about it.

I worry because I want Deacon there. I want him with me when I'm in labor. I'm already panicking when I think about the pain and needle for the epidural. I always hear how adults when they are in pain stay quiet and breathe loudly to swallow the hurt.

That is not me. I cry. I moan. I complain. The few times I've been sick on tour, Buck always threatens to quit. I make a simple cold into pneumonia. I make a splinter in my foot into a potential amputation. I yell at the doctors; I pout during sound check. Then I pull off an amazing show only to complain the second the lights die.

Deacon has always been good at putting things in perspective. He's been there for me and been there to comfort me when nobody else has. When I'm hurt, Deacon dries my tears and tells me to squeeze his hand through the pain. He kisses my temple and whispers to apologize for whatever awful things I've just said to whoever was around. When I'm sick, Deacon goes and finds my super comfy socks with the sticky things on the bottom. He lets me wipe my nose on his shirt and makes me vegetable soup. Hell, he's the only thing I want when I'm on my period. Sure, he hates buying tampons or thinking about period stuff but he still pulls out my heating pad and runs hot baths for me. He even buys me chocolate and doesn't ask me to share with him.

He's what makes me feel better. At least he was what made me feel better before he got so far out of control. It's been a long time since he brought any comfort to me. I have been the one to clean up his vomit and hold him when he shakes from his night-sweats. I've been the one who made him apologize to the bartenders and the hospital staff. But he's been sober for months now and I need him with me.

I hear Tandy's footsteps down the hallway and look up to meet her disapproving glare. She stares at me for a moment without speaking. She doesn't need to verbalize what she's thinking. She remembers all the nights I cried on her shoulder while Deacon was gone to rehab. She's driven me the County Jail to bail him out on several occasions. She's threatened hotel managers and paid off journalists. She's done all that for me, not for Deacon.

Then I begin to think about my family more broadly. Neither my father nor my sister can stand Deacon. Deacon hates Daddy and tolerates Tandy for my sake. On the other hand, Tandy actually likes Teddy. Daddy loves him and Teddy actually makes Daddy more likeable.

My daughter needs a family, one beyond me. Tandy will be around and involved if I'm with Teddy. She'll stop by our house to eat supper just because she wants to see her niece. She will have grandparents with Teddy. His parents are the salt of the earth. As for Daddy, he'll buy her a pony for her first birthday and not openly insult my child's father at every opportunity that presents itself.

I put my hand over my stomach and wait for a moment before I feel her kick. I smile as she moves again. She deserves better than some drunken guitar player and a spoiled brat diva as parents. We like to sleep late. We like being on tour for months at a time. I like to walk around the house naked. He likes to play guitar after midnight. I watched some kids program the other day. The worst was something called "The Wiggles." It had four grown men in solid colored shirts, singing made up songs about spaghetti and talk to a puppet octopus and dinosaur. The others were almost as bad. They had cheesy songs and bad acting. What the hell ever happened to Sesame Street? I am so unprepared for this. He's even less ready. Knowing us, she'll probably defy all logic and be a perfectly adjusted kid.

I wipe the tears from my eyes and ask myself aloud what the hell I'm doing. It's like this every time with Deacon. I swear in my head that it's over. I make plans. I resolve that I am done. But somehow, no matter what, whenever I think about my future, Deacon's in it. Hell, Deacon's is my future. He's addicted to alcohol and pills and God knows what else. I'm addicted to him and there's no rehab or detox that works on that. I've tried. Believe me, I've tried. She kicks again, right into my ribcage.

Daddy doesn't understand, neither does Tandy. Bucky is my biggest champion but is also my employee. Buck knows better than to voice his opinion too loudly about my personal life. Coleman is more invested in Deacon's sobriety than he is in our relationship. Vince is dead but was always going to take Deacon's point-of-view over mine. There is only one person who loves us both, who helped us both. There is only one person who watched us grow as a couple and as artists together and has always supported us individually as well.

Only I'm not talking to Watty right now.

Another two swift kicks to my rib cage and cough and I take it as a hint.

(***)

I shake hands with Cole and thank him for everything he did today. He puts a knowing hand on my back and reminds me about our AA meeting in the morning. I promise him I'll be there and that we'll get decent coffee afterwards. I promise him that I won't be late.

Coleman turns and walks through the path of boxes and clothes on the living room floor.

My new place is just four blocks from Coleman. It's a duplex with mainly senior citizens for neighbors. Cole found it for me. Some friend of a friend moved to Memphis and needed to sublease her place. It is furnished: two bedrooms and 1 ½ baths. The wallpaper is flowery and straight out of 1981, but for twelve hundred square feet it isn't bad. Good price, good neighborhood, and I think Ray will approve.

Roger Hayes called me about a week after got back. He asked me to play guitar for one of his artists. The songs didn't impress me much but it paid. Since then, I've had a steady flow of offers. I've taken all the jobs in recording studios and turned down all the jobs at bars. So far, all my offers have come from guys I've worked with before. For most of Nashville, I'm still a risk. There's nothing I can do about that right now, but I'm grateful to the people that have given me another chance. I'm booked solid the rest of the week but have made sure I make at least two meetings a day. Last time, I started slipping when I stopped doing two-a-days.

I've gotten enough work to pay first and last month's rent. Yesterday, I went to the DMV and filled out the paperwork for getting my driver's license back. I don't have a car anymore but what kind of father doesn't have a driver's license? I need one. So I'm working on it. My appointment is scheduled for next Thursday. I got the water and power turned on today. The phone guy is coming tomorrow. Ray and I haven't talked about how this whole thing is going to work yet but I have to be independent enough to take care of myself, much less a kid.

I grab a box and head to the bedroom to unpack my shirts. I know Rayna doesn't want to pressure me and truth is I think she's even more confused than I am. The few times I've seen her since the sonogram she hasn't mentioned any sort of visitation. Coleman and Audrey think I need to talk to an attorney who specializes in family law. I just don't want to go down that road yet for a lot of reasons. There is always the possibility that the kid isn't mine, or that Rayna changes her mind and wants Teddy to be the baby's dad. Well, the only dad she knows.

I smile at the thought of the word 'she'. Ray was right. A boy would be easier. I know boys. I was a boy, hell most days I still think I'm only a few years older than I was in high-school. I'm almost thirty one years old. Yep, a boy would be way easier. If this little girl has Ray's eyes and smile, I'll be in for it. If God forbid she has her mama's lungs or attitude, the whole world will be in for it.

The idea of the baby having Rayna's smile makes me smile. She's become more real now that the bump is bigger, and I've seen her and felt her kick. I've already decided that I'll go along with whatever Rayna wants. More and more every day I hope that she chooses to let me a part of her life…her life and the baby's life.

(****)

Rayna accepts the green tea I offer as she shifts uncomfortably in my kitchen chair. I offer to move to the couch but she shakes her head and says she's fine.

She's far from fine. She knows that and so do I. Rayna apologizes for the phone call and keeping her distance. I hold my hand out and she takes it in hers. I tell her that it was me who broke her confidence and made her life much more complicated in the process. She tries to laugh but the best she can do is a soft smile. She agrees aloud that everything is, "a huge complicated mess."

Silence fills the air as we both wait for her to be ready to talk. I busy myself in the kitchen, digging through cabinets and the pantry to find something suitable to eat. Her eyes focus on the tea in front of her. She finally asks why I went to Colorado. Her voice is so quiet that I contemplate acting as though I haven't heard her words.

I look back at Rayna and for a moment I wonder if this was how Gracie looked when she was pregnant. Rayna is beautiful and round, her hair flowing down her back, sadness etched into her features.

I take my time walking around the island in the kitchen.I cut up a peach then pour some pretzels into a bowl. I take a seat at the kitchen table beside her, offering the food which she accepts.

When I realize she is still waiting for my answer, I sigh then choose my words carefully. I tell her that I love her and I love Deacon. Both phrases are true. I tell Rayna that I know the last few years have been very difficult for them individually and collectively. She nods in silent agreement. I've just oversimplified the situation to say the least. I mention that Deacon's been getting a lot of work lately. She seemed to know that information already. I offer that he's moving into his own place on Lexington. That surprises her.

Then I offer the best truth I have at the moment.

"He deserved to know and in the end, I knew you would regret not telling him."

She nods and wipes a tear away from her cheek using the palm of her hand. She moves slightly in the chair trying to make herself more comfortable. I just sit there for a moment allowing her to process and gather her own thoughts.

The whistle of the tea kettle breaks the silence and I pour us each another cup. Then I ask her, "In ten years what do you want?"

"Her," she says, moving one hand over her stomach. "And him."

I know who the 'him" is.

Then she clarifies that she wants, "Him sober."


	7. Chapter 7

**As always thank you so much for your amazing comments & PMs. This story has taken on a life of its own. As always I would like to take a moment to thank Shiny Jewel for her amazing beta-ing skills. Thank you so much for the time and effort you have put into this! Also just a head's up, there will be one more chapter after this! **

**CHAPTER 7**

(***)

"Watty you can order a glass of wine, really its fine," Deacon insists.

I ask for a diet coke instead. I don't want to take the risk. Deacon orders a sweet tea. We each choose steak and then fall back into the conversation we've been having for more than an hour.

He's told me about the renovations he's made to his new place. It is nothing extreme, but he got permission to paint both bedrooms. His bedroom is now grey and the spare is now yellow. He and Coleman Carlisle painted it over the weekend and used non-toxic paint. He never specifically calls the room a nursery, but that is what he clearly intends it to be.

He talks to me about his tour of the hospital birthing suite. He went there last week by himself after Rayna added him to the list. He also signed up for a parenting class. So far he's passed the tests for diaper changing and holding the bottle in the right position. As we wait for our food, I discover there are different types of bottles based on air flow. He references the word "nipple" six times before I ask him politely to quit it.

The waitress comes, delivering our steak. My steak bleeds as I slide the knife through the corner of it. Deacon makes a disgusted face at my food. His steak should be more appropriately called beef jerky, well done and devoid of flavor. He makes my point by adding ketchup to his plate.

He thanks me again for everything I've done for him. He puts down his fork and looks at me, promising he'll prove that my faith in him was justified.

I nod and tell him that I hope he does right by the baby and by Rayna.

(***)

I press my lips together as Tandy suggests we all move into the foyer to open presents.

Why do I need presents? I'm a millionaire in my own right. Teddy has a job with six figures and dental plan. Deacon may have blown all his money, but he's steadily working again. Daddy has more money than he knows what to do with. So does Tandy. Yet, I'm having a baby shower.

I will say that it is a beautiful shower; Tandy has truly outdone herself. The luncheon has been catered by Wilkes. The decorations consist of beautiful white roses and lilies. In lieu of those God-awful square cakes, Tandy ordered one from Baker's Box. It's delicious and has strawberry filling and probably cost more than most wedding cakes. I'm drinking milk while all of the party guests are throwing back mimosas with hand-squeezed orange juice and expensive wine.

Everyone is getting tipsy except for me and the harpist. I smile awkwardly at the girl in the corner as she plucks the strings. She's probably the only one who wants to be here less than I do. Several of the guests ask questions about the house hunting and I put on a brave smile. I simply tell them we are still looking. It's a lie, but it is much easier to say than the truth.

I want to stay in the condo. Teddy is demanding that we move before the baby is born. He's angry that I am considering Deacon's request about the baby's last name. He's still not over Deacon being allowed into the birthing suite. He hasn't yelled yet, but he did sleep on the couch last night. A pang of guilt runs through me. Teddy deserves so much better than what I can give him.

Tandy's college roommate is here and tells me for the second time how brave I am to have this baby without getting married first. I've already had several of those comments and we are only forty minutes into this shindig.

Rebecca Jacobs has twins and according to her, I'm already wider than she was in the delivery room. I bite back a sarcastic reply, reminding myself that she'll be ugly forever and I'll just be fat for another few weeks. Elaine Piper suggests a live-in nanny from Utah. Apparently that is a thing now: they speak English, don't have boyfriends and don't drink. Elaine promises to call me with some numbers later in the week. Patty thinks that French Au-pairs are the way to go. Her child is bilingual and can't even walk yet. I can see it now: Patty's daughter will be a valedictorian speaking fluent French, while my daughter is making out with the bad boy under the bleachers.

My mind begins to wander as I open the presents and thank everyone dutifully. I now have a sterling silver rattle and a one-of-a-kind piece by an artist I've never heard of. The metal sculpture is supposedly a symbol of maternal love. It is called "From the Womb." It looks more like "From the Junk Yard."

My cancelled nuptials are brought up again and I politely change the subject.

Thankfully the party is over soon. Somehow, party doesn't seem like the right word for this afternoon. Party implies fun or enjoyment.

Still, I am grateful for everything Tandy has done. I hug my sister and thank her for everything. I promise that Teddy and I will be over in the morning to pick up all the presents. Then I kiss her goodbye and get in my car. Even with it pushed all the way back, I can barely slide into the seat. I'm not sure why, but suddenly I'm driving down the road in the opposite direction of my condo.

I check my watch and realize I've still got a few minutes left. The baby is not moving a lot today, so I put my hand on my stomach just to reassure myself she's okay. About thirty seconds later, the heat of my hand causes her to shift.

Speaking of the baby, she needs a name. Every woman at the shower asked and I simply said we hadn't made a final decision. I like Hannah, Lily, and Katherine. Teddy doesn't like any of those names. He likes Daphne, Shelby, and Olivia. Daphne reminds me of Scooby Doo, Shelby reminds me of Steel Magnolias, and I just don't like the name Olivia. Deacon hates all of Teddy's names. He likes the name Lily and Hannah but isn't a fan of Katherine. He says it sounds to snobby. Of course, when he brought up what her last name would be, I simply said that we should wait until she's born.

I look up and see Deacon walk out of the library doors. I honk my horn and Deacon looks around. I catch him smiling when he sees my car.

He opens the door, slides into the passenger seat and says, "Hey you two," which makes me feel tingly all over. I ask how the meeting went. He puts his hand over my stomach without asking. He tells me the meeting was fine. That is the most I'll get out of him. His hand on my stomach feels familiar and exciting at the same time. He asks how the shower went and points to the wrist corsage that I'm still wearing.

I smile and begin recounting the loot we got at the shower. I tell him about the horrible sculpture and the ostentatious baby rattle.

"She got some adorable baby shoes and a year of whatever 'Mommy and Me' classes are."

Deacon smacks his gum as I continue the list. "There is a really beautiful handmade quilt, way too nice for a baby," I tell him. "Oh and she got one of those rocking chairs that slides back and forth. That's actually more for me."

Deacon asks if the shower was as boring as the gifts. I roll my eyes and wonder if anyone else in the library parking lot is wondering what the two of us are doing just sitting in the car talking. Then I remember another gift.

"She even got those pink frilly things that go over diapers," I say.

"Pants?" Deacon asks making a face.

"No, the things cheerleaders wear," I explain. I roll my hands around as if that will help me recall the word I'm looking for. "You know …."

Deacon laughs, "Push-up bras?"

I hit him in the chest and continue to contemplate the word I'm looking for. Then, Deacon reaches into his back pocket and hands me something. It is a circular object and heavy in my palm. I trace the number six on the coin and feel tears prick my eyes. He's never gotten a six month sobriety chip; he's never made it this far before.

I say a bit too loudly for the confined space, "I'm proud of you." My eyes are brimming with tears and I can't stop the smile on my face.

He smiles brighter than I've seen him smile in a long time. In a quiet response, he admits he's, "Just a little bit proud of me too."

He takes the chip back and slides it in his back pocket. Then he asks what I'm doing here.

"I just wanted to see you," I say honestly.

He lets out a soft smile and tells me that he isn't complaining. He asks how I feel about french fries and I smile. It sounds perfect.

As we pull away I yell excitedly, "Bloomers, they are called bloomers!"

(***)

I hear the phone ring and quickly finish putting on a clean pair of boxers. I throw my towel in the hamper and go in search of the phone. I grab it and say hello. I recognize the "hey" instantly.

I almost blurt out that I was just thinking about her but stop myself. I would rather not have to explain to Ray exactly what I was thinking or exactly what I was doing. I've been going through a bottle of body wash and conditioner a week. I think I masturbated less when I was fourteen. But no sex in a year, well no sex in a year that I remember is driving me crazy.

She tells me about the doctor's appointment this afternoon. Teddy was able to make this one, so yesterday in the car she asked if I minded missing it. I didn't like it, but when I found out there would be no sonogram or listening to the heartbeat, it was an easier pill to swallow. Plus, I went to the one last week and she promised I could go to next week's too.

I listen to her recount the appointment. The baby is the size of a coconut and her hearing should be fully developed by now. She tells me that from here on out she's got an appointment every week. Before I start to worry, she reassures me that every woman after thirty six weeks has to see the OB-GYN every week until they deliver.

There is a long pause before she asks if she can come over to my place. I tell her of course and she hangs up quickly, promising to be there in about twenty minutes. I hang up the phone and my stomach sinks as I realize this is finally it. She's going to want to have the conversation about us and the baby and everything else. We've been skirting around the hard conversation for weeks now. She's going to ask what I want. She's going to ask will happen if the baby is Teddy's and what will happen if the baby's mine.

Truth is, if this baby is Teddy's, I don't know how I'll handle it. I already think of her as mine and just the thought that she'll be taken away from me hurts. What if the baby looks like Teddy or God forbid acts like him. What if she hates me because I'm not Teddy? What if I resent her because she isn't mine?

Then there is the idea of Ray and Teddy still being together. Ray will have this huge connection to someone other than me. He'll be in her life forever. They'll share birthdays and graduations and soccer games and I'll be on the outside looking in. Then, suddenly I feel overwhelmed and like the last thing I need to do is talk to Rayna about this. It's ironic, the only person who gets me, is the one person I can't talk to about this. I don't want to her hurt her anymore. I don't want Ray to be disappointed in me again.

I look around the living room and straighten things up a little bit. The coffee cups in the sink get thrown in the dishwasher, the jeans I wore yesterday are thrown in the plastic hamper, and I close the front closet to hide the mess. She knows I never wash my jeans and I always leave my dishes in the sink, but I still want to impress her. At least, I don't want to remind her of all the reasons that I'm the worst thing that's ever happened to her.

Before too long, she knocks on the door and my hand is already on the knob. Ray's cheeks are red; her hair is slick with sweat. It's warm outside but not that hot. Her stomach looks a lot lower than it did when I saw her a few days ago. Rayna always looks beautiful, but right now she also looks miserable.

I help her over to the couch and she practically falls into the cushions. She's due in twenty nine days, but based on the size of her stomach, she looks like she could give birth any second. She would kill me if I told her that. I sit down on the chair across from her.

I notice that her eyes are full of tears and her lip is trembling. I move to sit beside her on the couch. Without thinking, I reach up and put my hand on her cheek. My thumb brushes a tear that escapes and my hand tingles. It has been so long since I've touched her like this but I can't focus on that right now.

I ask what's wrong and she just shakes her head like she can't speak. Ray only gets like this when she's overwhelmed. There is nothing to do but hold her and wait until she's ready to talk. Thirty minutes later, her head in is my lap. She's still sniffing but she isn't crying anymore. I lie back against the couch and stroke her hair, allowing my fingers to occasionally skim over her bare arms. Her finger starts tracing my knee through my jeans.

She sniffles and when she finally speaks her voice is low and cracks. "Why couldn't you have gotten sober a year ago?"

I don't say anything back. Instead, I just let her cry a little bit longer as I stroke her back. There is nothing to say. A few minutes later, she tells me that I did a good job of cleaning up the apartment quickly. It causes me to laugh. She whispers that she really is proud of me for getting sober and staying sober.

Eventually she sits up and wipes her tears away with the back of her hand. She lets it settle on the back of my neck and I damn near want to cry when her fingernails scrap my skin. I quickly remind myself that on that same hand is Teddy's ring.

"I'm scared," she says. I know she's talking about the baby, the labor and my sobriety.

"Me too," I say back. I brush a piece of hair that has fallen down over her face. I tuck it behind her ear and watch her eyes.

"What happens if she isn't yours?" she asks. Her voice shakes and she looks down at her stomach instead of at me. I lift her chin up so we are at eye level again. I tell her that I love her and I want the baby to be mine.

Ray sniffles again and shakes her head. She says she knows that, but there is still a possibility it's Teddy's.

I tell myself to just lie and say it won't matter. I tell myself that this is the chance to make it right with Rayna. But instead I say quiet. I've lied to her so many times that I just can't tell her something I don't know to be true yet.

Ray seems to understand my reluctance. After another awkward moment of silence, she tells me that she has to go the bathroom. "She's sitting right on my bladder so I have to pee like once an hour." She smiles through her tears and excuses herself.

A few minutes later, she's out of the bathroom and reaching for her pocketbook.

She says she needs to get going and I'm still confused as to why she came over in the first place. I walk her to the front door and lean over to kiss her on the forehead. Then without thinking I lean down and kiss her stomach. As I stand back up I see the tears pool in her eyes. I lean down and brush my lips against hers. I don't try to prolong the moment, just a brief touch. Then I pull back and wish her goodnight.


	8. Chapter 8

First, I lied, this is the not the last chapter. This chapter kept growing so there will be another chapter. A HUGE THANK YOU to Shiny Jewel for betaing. Anything wrong, weird, a mess is because of me and not because of her! I've been uber sick which has put me out of commission so I apologize for this taking so long!

(***)

I walk into the hospital, following the light blue line that runs along the ceiling. I pass several groups of people, paying them no mind. I round the corner and see the line end at the nursing station.

My voice shakes as I say Rayna's name. The nurse lowers her glasses and tells me there is no one here by that name. I sigh and then ask if, "Wilma Flintstone is here?" I still think Bucky's insistence that we use an alias is stupid, but that doesn't matter now. The nurse looks up from her file. She fixes her glasses and takes a lazy sip of her coffee.

Doesn't this woman know that Rayna's in labor? She looks at her computer and messes with a few files, taking her sweet time. Eventually she points down the hallway and I rush to make up for the time I've missed standing there. I find the right room and open the door. My eyes dart around. I expect to see Tandy, Teddy and Rayna. Instead the room is empty. I feel my throat get tight and my breathing quickens.

A second later I hear a familiar voice and I walk out into the hall and smile. Rayna is walking slowly down the hall, holding Tandy's hand and pushing an IV pole with the other. She is wearing a soft pink gown and her hair is up in a messy, frizzy knot.

She reaches for me and I take her hand, leading her from the hall back to her room. Tandy fills me in while we walk slowly. She's five centimeters. I know the magic number is ten. I'm still not entirely sure how that is enough room either, but it's something I don't care to think about. Tandy tells me that Teddy is downstairs with his parents eating dinner. Ray scoots back on the bed as she grips my hand for leverage. It takes her a moment to get adjusted.

Ray smiles at me and says that she's glad I'm here. The three of us in the room shift our eyes back and forth awkwardly until Tandy offers to get some ice chips. There is a bucket of ice at the foot of her bed, but Tandy leaves anyway, closing the door behind her. Ray's eyes widen in a mixture of excitement and surprise.

"I'm having a baby," she says, a sense of wonder in her voice.

A nurse comes in and takes Ray's wrist. She makes a face when the nurse moves the IV, scrunching her lips together. The nurse, who says her name is Brenda, leaves after hooking some machine up to Rayna's finger. Brenda tells us the doctor will come and check on her progress in about thirty minutes.

Then, it's just the two of us alone. Ray asks me to sit on the bed and I gladly do it. She notices the bag I've brought with me and wants to see what is inside. I figure if this baby is anything like the two of us, she'll be stubborn as hell and decide to do things in her own time. There isn't much: another shirt, boxers, and a toothbrush. There is a set of playing cards and a small hand-held radio. There is a small picture of me and Ray from years ago with my mama. I don't know why I threw it in the bag, but it felt right. Ray picks up the picture and traces her finger over our faces. She smiles softly and tells me that she wishes, "Lynn was here." I miss mama every day but a little piece of me is glad she didn't have to witness the last few years of my life. She'd love me no matter what, but she'd also be disappointed at the mug shots and the trips to rehab.

Ray puts down the picture and pulls out the playing cards, readjusting on the bed and grimacing. Soon I'm sitting near her feet and we are playing poker. Vince was always the card player; he taught both me and Ray how to play. The three of us would drink beer and play gin until four in the morning, as our tour bus went from one city to the next. It occurs to me we haven't played cards since before the wreck. For a moment, I let myself think about Vince. He's with me every day. I still wear his ring on my finger; I still talk about him at meetings. But for the last few months, I've been focused on Ray and the baby. I've been focused on the future and the present, not the past. I can't help but feel guilty. Suddenly, I feel Rayna's hand.

"I miss him too," Ray says softly. She takes her hand in mine and squeezes it. Her eyes have tears in them and I don't know if she's in physical pain or if it's just the memories. I don't ask. Instead, I deal and she gives me an odd look as I lay the cards out.

I inform her we are playing, "Go Fish."

"Go Fish? Seriously?" she asks laughing.

I look at down at her legs and motion my hand over her stomach, "She's getting closer to being out here. Her ears are close to…out here too. Do you really want the first thing she ever hears to be us playing poker?"

The baby still doesn't have a name: first, middle, or last. But that thought passes quickly as Ray lets out a bark of laughter. Then, we fall into game a quiet game. The only sounds in the room are Rayna's machines which beep and groan every few minutes, or when one of us asks the other for a card. Ray asks for an eight and I hand over my card. Then she drops the deck on the bed and lets out a squeak. In response, I drop my cards and reach for her.

After a moment, she moans, "It hurts." She presses her fingernails into my palm and holds her breath. I remind her to breathe. It takes her a second before she exhales loudly. Her eyes shoot me an unspoken message of gratefulness and annoyance. Her eyes relax again and I know the pain is gone.

She picks up her cards and I follow her lead. We continue on. I take her four. We both go fish several times, teasing each other about which cards we have. We finish our first game before another contraction hits. Then, we switch to blackjack. The fifth contraction that hits her is bad. Her nails dig into my palm harder and it seems to last longer. I tell her to breathe. Her voice is full of irritation when she responds, "Why don't you feel your cervix open up and have a seven pound baby come out of you and see how easy it to breathe." Yep, that is my Ray.

The doctor comes in and introduces himself. I offer to leave the room but she asks me to stay. The check is quick. I stand near Ray's head while the doctor sits under her. The whole process is bizarre. Ray's practically naked and some other guy is looking at and touching her down there. I know it seems stupid, but a twinge of possessiveness stirs, somewhere between the fear and worry. I'm glad when the doctor takes off his gloves and stands up from his stool. She's still five centimeters but "progressing" whatever that means. She looks over at me, clearly unhappy that despite the pain she's no further along.

(***)

Teddy calmly tells me that all I need to do is "breathe through it." I bite back the curse words I want to let out and grasp his hand. Teddy's parents are still in the room and I've already let out several expletives. His mother is reading a John Grisham novel and his father is watching ESPN on the television bracketed on the wall.

Daddy has gone home for the night. Tandy is at the end of the hall doing work in the quiet waiting area. Deacon is somewhere around here, floating in and out of the room. He seems uncomfortable with Teddy and his parents in the hospital room.

It is nearing 1 AM and according to Dr. Byron I'm at seven centimeters. I'm just about at my wits end. The contractions hurt. No, they _fucking_ hurt. I swear I can feel my cervix move and it stings and burns. The doctor said it was a sign that shows I'm dilating. I'm still three centimeters away and at this rate, the baby will be born in 2002.

Teddy's mother closes her book and advises me that, "All men say stupid things like 'focus on your breathing' because they have no idea how painful it is." I notice her packing up her things and soon Teddy's parents are heading back to their hotel room. As Teddy walks them to the parking garage, Deacon reappears with a white box.

The next contraction hits and it's the worst one yet. The arch of my foot clinches and my toes shake as the pain radiates through my body. I'm pretty sure I punch Deacon in the shoulder before his hand clinches mine.

After what feels like forever, the pain is to the point of being manageable again. I let out a loud gasp and try not to cry. I feel like a five-year-old child but I can't do this.

He offers ice chips but I shake my head. Deacon whispers that I look beautiful and I can't help but smile. Deacon tells me that Watty stopped by the waiting room but didn't want to bother me. He picks up the white box I saw him with earlier.

"He said we had to open it together."

I throw the wrapping paper on the floor and gasp when I see the present. It is the tiniest pair of cowboy boots I've ever seen. They are white and when I pick them up, the fluorescent lighting catches the little white rhinestones. I smile for the first time in hours as I inspect them. Then, I notice the box has other things in it. There are a set of white bloomers with the words, "Like My Mama" rhinestoned on the butt. Deacon grins and the fact that he knows what bloomers are makes me smile again.

Then another contraction starts. I wrap both hands around one his arms and squeeze hard. With the other arm, he reaches for the remaining items in the box. He tells me to exhale when he shows me a headband. Through gritted teeth, I tell him to keep talking. He pulls out a dress made for a newborn. The material is warm, perfect for the weather right now. Then I notice the word, "Princess" written across the front chest of the dress in the same script as her bloomers.

I can't help but laugh and even though the pain is horrible I love the outfit more. I lean my head against his shoulder as the pain increases. Deacon reaches in to the box and pulls out a card. He tears the envelope and reads the card.

_Rayna,_

_May this little girl bring you all the joy and happiness you deserve. If she possesses half your talent or half your charisma, she'll set the world on fire just like her Mother and her Grandmother._

_Watty_

Between the pain and the emotion, I burst into tears and pull myself tighter into Deacon's shoulder. Deacon turns his head towards me and I feel him kiss the top of my head. He whispers that it'll be over soon. And the pain dulls soon enough. I catch a whiff of myself and realize I've sweated through my deodorant. I verbalize my thoughts and he laughs.

"Yeah I didn't want to say anything but you do smell special."

I let out a strangled laugh as I shift my legs again, trying to get more comfortable. Teddy walks into the room, loudly announcing that the doctor is heading this way. Deacon untangles himself from my grip and stands up. The next contraction hits and in sheer reaction, I grab Deacon's hand. Teddy comes to the other side and encourages me to breathe again and I clinch my jaw.

I don't know if Teddy realizes it but all of my strength is in Deacon's hand. As soon as the contraction is over I let Deacon go. I don't want to let go but it feels wrong to be clinching Deacon's hands with the finger that I'm wearing my engagement ring to Teddy. Teddy's eyes lighten when I let go of Deacon's hand and focus on him. I show him Watty's present. He barely smiles at the present as his eyes cut to Deacon.

The next contraction hits and I yell, "Damn It!" before I realize it. Teddy whispers that I'm doing great. He's said that several times and I'm not sure what I'm doing that's great exactly. I'm doing nothing but cussing and hurting.

The doctor comes and I'm only two centimeters away from being able to push. Dr. Byron seems excited. Teddy seems hopeful. Deacon's eyes carry the same dread I'm feeling. Two more centimeters, damn it.

(***)

We are at ten centimeters, finally. It's after four and the sky outside is still black. To make Rayna more comfortable, she's been laying on her side for the last hour. Now it is time for the pushing stage and the nurse begins moving the bed to sit her upright. Teddy's on her right side while I'm standing on the left.

Rayna's eyes hold a mixture of fear and exhaustion. The doctor takes a seat below Rayna while she pulls her legs up. Another twinge of possessiveness hits me but then Ray grabs my hand hard. The nurse tells Rayna the next time a contraction hits she needs to focus on pushing down.

It takes two more long contractions before I feel Rayna's grip lessen and notice the tension in her forehead. I look up at the big clock on the wall. It must have stopped because it says that only fifteen minutes have passed since she started actively pushing.

Another four minutes passes, three pushes, and I swear I just want it to stop. Ray's clearly in pain, too much pain to even complain. I can't make it stop or lessen it with a joke or kiss. I feel helpless. Teddy is calm and whispering. I'm at a loss. But I'm holding her hand and stroking her wrist, gently.

The doctor tells her to relax and not push. It scares me, but the doctor says she's crowning. Ray's eyes fill with tears. She breathes out that, "It hurts," and then her breath hitches again when a contraction hits. The doctor reminds her not to push and tells her that he is still checking to ensure the cord isn't wrapped around the baby's neck.

Suddenly, it occurs to me that this is it. In a few minutes, maybe even seconds, Ray was going to be a mother and most likely I was going to be a father. The fear almost strangles me. What if I see her and just know that she isn't mine or what if I fall in love at first sight with the baby and the test shows that she's Teddy's? What if something's wrong with the baby physically? The doctor tells her as soon as the next contraction hits to push.

Ray lets out a groan of pain and exhales loudly. Suddenly, all the sounds around me dull somehow. I see her, that little girl, and all I can see is Ray's baby. She's covered in stuff- I don't even want to know what it is, but she's perfect. She's Rayna. That's all that matters. All I can feel is the overwhelming need to hold her. To count her fingers and toes, and see what color her eyes are. I watch as the baby curls her body up slightly, releasing a wail. Her voice is loud enough for me to realize I can hear everything again. I want her to stop crying. She's cold and the light is hurting her eyes, but the doctor doesn't seem to care. Instead, he and the nurse roughly wipe her down and handle her body.

Then, she's in a blanket and before I realize it Teddy's cutting the cord. I don't care about the cord; all I want is for them to help her stop crying. I look back at Ray who is sitting up in the bed watching the baby too. They take her to the other side of the room and lay her on the hard metal table. She still cries but at least they put a hat on her head. Ray says my name and asks me to go check on her.

I let Ray's hand go and walk to the corner of the room. As I get over to the baby, I can hear my heart beating loudly in my ears as she keeps crying. The nurse wraps her in a pink blanket and turns to face me, holding the baby. She's still crying and her eyes are scrunched shut.

"Here you go Daddy," the woman says to me, and a second later, the baby is in my arms. The nurse tells me to support her head and her hands move my arms to the right position. Suddenly I can't move as she continues to cry.

I whisper to her a "Shhhhh" but that doesn't seem to work either. I bring her a little closer to my body and sit on a chair near the wall, blocking the light from her eyes and begin to hum gently. It takes a few seconds but her cries lessen to whimpers. I take a second to stare at her left hand, amazed at how tiny it is. Her eyes stay closed but she's scrunching them less and I whisper a "Hey, it's okay."

Rayna calls my name and it takes everything I have to turn my eyes away from my girl but they look up and see Ray with an anxious expression on her face. I continue to hum as I walk towards Rayna. It takes nearly a minute before I can safely hand her off. I watch as Ray holds our daughter, cradling her against the bare skin of her chest and neck.

Ray can't keep her eyes off the baby and I can't keep my eyes off them. The nurses and the doctors, Teddy, Tandy and everybody else fade away. It's just the three of us: Ray, me, and our daughter. I scold myself for already calling the baby my daughter. She could still be Teddy's. Then a breath later, it occurs to me that she is part of Ray and that is all that matters. I reach my finger out and trace her hand, her arm.

I finally meet Ray's gaze and her face holds this beautiful sense of awe. I've seen her look this way a couple of times before: when she won her first Grammy and the first time she sang at the Opry. Tears of exhaustion and happiness spill down her cheeks. I blink my eyes to stop myself from crying.

(***)

I wake up shivering. I'll never understand why hospitals are so cold. I look at the clock and realize it's a little after three in the afternoon. I've been a mom for almost twelve hours and it already feels like weeks. The initial two tries at breastfeeding haven't gone so well and my stomach just stopped cramping about an hour ago. My ass is still sore. Nobody ever said anything about there being pain after she was born.

'She' still doesn't have a name but they did swab her mouth this morning for the DNA testing. Between my name and Daddy's name, the DNA test should be back soon. We did two separate tests. There is one with Teddy and another separate one with Deacon, each done by a different technician.

The baby was sent back to the nursery to get some sleep. Teddy and his parents have been here most of the day, so has Deacon. But right now, it's just me. Then, the door swings open. It's Tandy who walks through first, smiling with flowers and a blanket. A second later the baby's cradle comes wheeling in with Teddy pushing it.

I watch as Teddy rolls her over to my bed. I look in and see she is still sleeping but I put my hand inside the open bassinet and touch her shoulder. Tandy tells me she's "addictive."

Teddy reminds that she needs a name. I look down at the baby again and suggest the name Holly. One of the nurses was named that and it is pretty.

Teddy makes a face and says, "Holly Conrad sounds like a skin condition."

I smile and think to myself that she clearly has Deacon's eyes.

He offers several suggestions but I nix those too. The truth is, Deacon should have a say in what she's named also. Teddy turns to my sister and asks her opinion. I look at Tandy, who seems to be having a conversation with herself. Finally, she suggests naming her after mama.

I say the name Grace softly. Teddy slowly smiles. I play it around in my head, and like it too. I look back down at the baby and admit that I like the name Grace. But then I frown. This poor child is going to have to deal with being Lamar Wyatt's granddaughter, my child, and Deacon's child. I want her to have her own identity; her own name.

Deacon walks into the room and sees the three of us standing around the baby. He walks over too, and sets down a beautiful vase of Gerber daisies. Tandy cuts her eyes at me and fills Deacon in. He smiles and says he likes the name Grace, "But not for a first name. She needs her own name."

I smile widely. I love how in sync the two of us can be sometimes. Tandy mentions random country singers' names: June, Dolly, Pam, Patty, Roseanne. Deacon comments that he likes the name Lucy. We all say no to that. Tandy likes Victoria. Deacon and Teddy say no. The four of us go around in circles in a bizarre "name that baby" game.

Then, Daddy swings the door open to the room. He breezes over to the four of us and pulls the bassinet towards him. Before we can stop him, Daddy picks up the baby and smiles. She's still asleep but that doesn't seem to bother Daddy. Tandy tells him that her middle name will be Grace. Daddy smiles wide and coos at the baby calling her Maggie Grace.

"That is not her name," I insist.

Margaret was Daddy's mothers' name and over the last few months he has dropped hints that it would make a beautiful name. Daddy keeps cooing at the baby, her eyes shifting as she wakes up, thanks to allthe jostling Daddy is doing to her. I should be annoyed but for some reason I'm not.

Deacon admits that he, "Kinda likes the way it sounds."

Teddy moves his shoulders up and down for a minute and then a small smile spreads his face too. Apparently Teddy likes the name too.

Before we can finish our conversation, a guy with a lab coat walks in. He's holding a manila envelope in his hand and asks if, "Theodore Conrad is here?" Teddy nods and the room seems to tense. Teddy looks over at Daddy and the baby and takes the folder.

I fold my hands in my lap and feel myself trying to get a glimpse of Deacon. A few seconds later Teddy lays the paper slowly on the bed and turns towards Deacon. In a strangled whisper Teddy tells him, "Congratulations," before excusing himself. I know I should call out for him, but I'm too busy watching Deacon's profile as he watches the baby.

Daddy rocks the baby, "Well then I suppose it is Margaret Grace Claybourne."

Deacon smiles widely, happily, and asks Lamar if he can hold his daughter. Tandy senses that we need a few minutes and she rushes Daddy out into the hall. Then, it's just me, Deacon and...Maggie? I don't like the name. It reminds me of Belle Meade, dollies and Daddy. But suddenly all I care about is watching Deacon's eyes as he holds our little girl. Minutes pass, maybe longer before either one of us speak. It's me, with an idea that popped into my head.

"What about Madelynn? Spelled M-A-D-E-L-Y-N-N?"

I have to repeat the question twice before I break Deacon's concentration. His eyes sparkle with tears when he realizes he'll have his mama's name hidden in his daughter's.

"And call her Maddie?" he asks, already whispering to the baby and asking how it sounds. I smile as she moves her arms just a little and yawns. She doesn't seem that impressed but I like it.

"Madelynn Grace Claybourne?" he asks hopefully. The truth is, we haven't really discussed the last name issue all that much. If she had been Teddy's, her last name would be Conrad, no questions asked.

Claybourne did feel right. So I nod, "Yeah. Madelynn Grace Claybourne." Deacon let out one of the happiest and lightest smiles I have ever seen on his face and I couldn't help but smile back. He comes and sits beside me on the bed, careful since he's still holding Maddie. I rest my head on his shoulder and watch as Maddie's eyes flicker, still worn out from the five minutes that Daddy woke her up.


End file.
